The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1887-08-28

no, cannot believe that misfortune could
come to one whose whole life has been de-
voted to others,
There are everso many things | want to
tell you, but is not this letter long enough!
Are You never coming home. | wonder if
you VIII be the same, dear boy. must be
the first TO welcome you. The girls are call
ing to me from the garden, l have stolen
this hour for you. They send you messages,
Out must stop. Your cousin,
BESSIE HARDWOOD.
| read this twice. lingering over it loving
iiy-how lovingiy Ny bonny grill my
bonny girl!
Why is it so hard to put it aside-this
battered sheet penned SO long ago by girl
ish hand! Why do | sit foolishly kissing and
tondling it! Is it so hard, indeed, to shut
out this picture from a vanished past! Is
there nothing after all like youth? No
later, deeper joys that make up for its loss
that |, with my weight of years and my
gray-lined head, look..back so yearningly,
half bewitched by the springtime glamour
this breath from the past has shed around
me.
The next letter bears two years. later
date.
-, Nov. 12, IS.
My Dear Jeffrey: 1t is raining dismal
ly, and the wind sobs, and sobs! What is
1t saying to me? | cannot sleep, so l throw
shawl around me, and by the light of the
dying embers begin an answer to your let
ter: All! | miss you yet, jeff, dear old boy,
and shall miss you still more before it is
all over. What am l writing! Oh jeffrey,
you tear it from me-against my will! 1t
Kills me to say it, yet it. is this that the night
winds moan, the dead leaves rustic, the
owls cry-oh! hear it everywhere! He is
slipping out of my reach-he is dyirg-I
know tiny own, my only brother l have
written the awful words Yes, he is dying.
The last blow was more than even he, with
all his wonderful strength of will, could
bear up under. He tried to bear it,
God knows he did But when we had to
give up our home-our home! and every
acre of the lands that had belonged to the
Harwoods for century, he seemed crushed
beyond all hope.
But you do not know these terrible things
that have happened to us since you have
been across the waters. wanted to write,
felt that you ought to hear it from me, but
l could not! could not!
1t is dreadful to go over it all
in heartless detail. / cannot do it.
Indeed, 1 fear l have no right to
speak OF my brothers grief that he himself
guards so sacredly, even to you. But the
world knows it all, and why should not you
know it as well9 You can never know how
bitter has been the cup he has drained when
L nave UOlQ you all may.
1t has been more than two years now
since Edith left him-left him in bitter an
ger; left him. innocent as he was, to bear
the pain of her cruel taunts-and oh! far
worse!-the disgrace and dishonor cast upon
his name by her mad act, alone and as best
he could. If Edith had been false in her
heart, it would not have been so cruel But
she was the woman he had chosen out of
all the world-the woman he loved and
whose many hard words and un Just re-
breaches, he had borne with marvellous
sweetness and patience. | confess | had
lost all patience with her unreasoning jeal-
ousy. Yet | always knew that it was her
love that caused it. She was almost grand
in her pride that day. She said that he had
never loved her; that he had no love for any
one who was not HARDWOOD; that she hated
the name and would not bear it longer
God forgive her! Will she ever know how
she has wronged him9
Though gentle in most things, my brother
is proud. He only lifted those eyes of his
placid and tearless-tO her face, while a
strange hardness settled about his lips. He
had no word for such as this. When she
had gone he babe us leave him.
The following day, late in the evening, he
sent for us to come to him in his study. Oh,
the suspense of that long, anguish waiting.
stern, sorrowful smilel But he'seemed I'M
changed Still erect and calm as he is al
ways. Still smiling and tender to Josie and
me; only when the light fell on his head we
saw-and we did not try to keep back our
tears when we saw it-that his splendid dark
brown hair was heavily, heavily streaked
with white
never do | must have no tears from you.
We cannot afford to give up in this way. l
have sent for you to talk about very serious
matters. have kept it from you too long
already
He told us, then, what was not quite new
to us, for he had several times spoken of
debt and embarrassments.
1T is worse than | feared, he said ."At
best, can save nothing for you but the old
home, yet that will be much. We can keep
together then, and | ought to ask no more!"
Oh, the pathos of these quiet words from
him. Wee chung about his neck, and begged
him to keep nothing back from U.s. We
said we did not care what happened so long
as we had him, and that we should not mind
poverty if we could ever hope, in any degree,
to comfort and strengthen his dear heart.
And indeed we meant all we said. Then he
talked 20 us long time. You know how
quietly he talks, yet always to the point.
He told us how he had loved and watched
over his child-sisters almost from their
cradles, and that the ruin which now
threatened him had nothing in it half so
terrible as the thought of leaving them
alone Yet he told us that he had not given
up all hope, and, with our bright faces be-
fore him, ne believed he should yet sue
coed.
1.-The wife who has deserted mellow his
dear face saddened-"has never been dear
enough to make me give up for her sake the
purest love my manhood has known the
purest because the only love that brought
me any happiness. When | tell you this
YOU cannot reproach yourselves for being
the innocent cause of so much trouble.
We will not speak again of Edith. loved
her-and forgive her could never make
her understand me, but that is over now"
He spoke with difficulty, then his head
sank on the table before him. We kissed
him tenderly, reverently, and stole away.
He seemed to have buried it all there. He
was quite cheerful and hopeful the week
that followed, until one awful day he stag
gered into the room where we sat at work.
Bessie Josie the worst has come! We
are homeleSsW
The last word seemed to choke him, yet he
soon recovered himself
II shall feel better now 1t is over-l mean
the dread-and, at least, we can trust Him
who has ordered it thus. ! think L am re-
signed. | have not one wish on the earth for
myself. But you, my girls my own girls,
what will become of you when am gone"